


In case you ever forget

by chelouple28



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: 2-part fic turned into 3-part fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apparently a lot more canon than previously thought, Boy Squad, Fluff, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Paint Fights, Reunions, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:08:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelouple28/pseuds/chelouple28
Summary: ‘Hi.’ He exhales. His eyes drop to the floor, glancing at his shoes, at the little lilac stain  by his right foot, at anything but Eliott. ‘We were just leaving. Sorry.’He looks up  for a second and nods at Eliott before turning away.'Wait. Can we talk?'OrYann convinces Lucas to finally paint the mural with the rest of the squad, just to be interrumpted by the person Lucas less (more? He's a constant disappointment to himself) wants to see right now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in the Skam fandom, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> The second part will be uploaded in a few days (hopefully before Friday)  
> Comments and constructive criticism are highly appreciated :)  
> Thanks for reading ❤

Lucas eyes the wall warily.

"What the hell are we supposed to do with this?" Yann asks from the floor, looking back and forth between the painting supplies and the atrocious graffiti that decorates the room.

"Eh," Lucas grouches down and uncaps a bucket of white paint. "I guess we have to start by covering the graffiti?" He scratches his head sheepishly.

"Sure." Arthur says from the door. With his hands full of plastic sheets and the plaster on his glasses he looks like a proper nerd. Lucas tries not to laugh – the glasses part is his fault, anyway. It wouldn’t be nice to laugh. "And then? Daphne will have our heads if we make it worse than it already is"

Basile perks up at the name, but Yann beats him to it before he can open his mouth.

"Fat chance of that happening. We’d have to actually try for that." He laughs, standing up. He dusts off his jeans, takes some plastic sheets from Arthur and dumps them next to the paint buckets. Arthur raises one eyebrow. "Relax. We’ll just go with it."

"Famous last words" jokes Lucas.

They all get to work, wrapping practically everything in the sheets that is close enough to get potentially stained – although, knowing them, they should just go ahead and wrap the whole building while they’re at it, just in case.

The old Lucas would have laughed at the thought of being at school on a Friday afternoon. This Lucas, though? He wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Him, his friends, a mural to paint, and the 5pm winter sun shining through the windows, warming their skin slowly. It doesn’t get better than that.

Yann’s phone is blasting the new Party Rock playlist, the first notes of Panic! At the Disco’s latest hit echoes through the empty school, and Lucas is smiling so hard his cheeks are starting to ache.

"This side is done." Arthur states proudly from the other side of the room, his back turned to the now covered chairs and football table. "That’s more than what Baz’s done, right Basile?"

Lucas spins around to look at him, and- indeed. The boy is halfway bent – trying to find the sheet’s corner, Lucas presumes – and he’s got tape all over his clothes and arms.

"You okay over there, dude?" Lucas laughs.

"Great!" Basile chirps. "Just peachy. Don’t mind me." He trashes around some more, getting even more tangled in the sheets. "I’m doing fine! I _totally_ have this under control."

"Are you sure about that?" Arthur, who’s now way closer to Basile than before, grins with a malicious glint in his eyes before extending his arm forward. With a single finger, he pushes at Basile’s shoulder.

Lucas swears he sees Baz’s life flash before his eyes.

"Fuck!" He starts falling backwards, trying to hold onto anything for safety. In a last desperate attempt to keep himself upright, he grabs at Arthur’s sweater, making him lose balance too.

"No!" Lucas drags out the word, his hands cutting through air as he tries to stop the fall. As if watching a scene in slow motion, his blue eyes follow the way Basile and Arthur’s body collide against the covered floor, knocking over one of the smallest buckets of paint. "The paint!"

"Ah, man." Basile groans from the floor. Arthur looks up at him, expectantly, raising his eyebrows as if saying _‘do you mind?’_

When the latter doesn’t get up from his position, Arthur just sticks his hand onto one of the new formed puddles of paint by his right and slaps Basile across the cheek.

"Uh, oh." Yann mutters.

For a second, the room seems to freeze. Basile’s wide eyes, Arthur’s head tilted up in laughter, Yann’s hand halfway inside the back pocket of his jeans.

Lucas holds his breath.

And then hell breaks loose.

"Paint fight!" Someone screams to his left. In a matter of seconds, he’s been tackled to the floor.

The hoodie he’s wearing sticks wetly to his back. He feels cold fingers brush against his cheek. Purple paint is now a new fixation on his joggings. Daphne is definitely going to kill them.

Lucas covers his hands in paint, crunched down on the floor as he eyes his next victim. His big blue eyes scan the room in a mischievous way. The opening of a new song matches the way his heart is beating against his ribcage – wildly and fast, anticipation making its way into his body – as he rolls over to smack his hands across Yann’s chest with a cheeky smile.

"You look so pretty now." Lucas nods in satisfaction, big grin on his face before raising himself up on his knees, moving away with an air of nonchalance.

Yann gasps, looking at his now really fucking stained shirt before setting his eyes on Lucas. He stands up.

"Yeah?" He smirks devilish, creeping up on Lucas, cornering him. Lucas starts walking backwards – but only for a few seconds, because next thing he knows, his back meets the wall. Yann’s smirk turns into a full on grin.

"Come here, Lulu. Don’t you want to give your best friend a hug?" He asks, taking a step closer.

Lucas blinks, and suddenly there’s hands on his chest and under his armpits. The smell of paint buries itself into his bones, so intensely he swears he’s high on it.

Sneaky fingers make their way to every right spot – or wrong, if you’re Lucas – on his body, making him gasp with laugher; laugher that overlaps with yells of ‘Victory!’ and ‘Fuck you!’ coming from the other two boys mere meters away from them – laughter so pure and golden that the sun feels threatened by it.

"Fuck guys, I love you" Lucas says, trying to catch his breath, with his hands holding his knees. He’s still smiling, and he doesn’t think he wants to stop anytime soon.

The other three boys coo, wrapping him up into a tight hug.

"Without ambiguity." Yann laughs. Then, he pulls his head back and looks at the other boys with a serious expression before saying: "Hey, guys. What wouldn’t we miss?"

They all look at each other.

Basile grins and Arthur laughs. Without missing a beat, they answer.

"What, what, what wouldn’t we miss?" They yell at unison.

Lucas shakes his head in exasperation. The arms around his body tighten, and they start spinning around as they chant at the top of their lungs "what, what, what wouldn’t we miss? That’s Lucas’ birthday!"

After a moment, Lucas joins in. They start screaming, jumping around, spinning, as they sing the same line over and over again. He feels high.

Lucas goes in circles, arms spread wide, so carefree, running around the room as his friends do the same thing. In a boost of adrenaline he lifts his hoodie up, taking it off and throwing it to the other side of the room.

He notes the dried paint on his hands, it makes the bruises on his knuckles stand out a little less. There are stains on his forearms that look like galaxies swimming on his skin.

He decided he likes purple now.

"What, what, what wouldn’t we miss? That’s Lucas' birthday." They’re laughing so hard there’s tears on their eyes. "WHAT, WHAT, WHAT WOULDN’T WE MISS?! THAT’S LUCAS' BIRTHDAY-"

"Oh."

Lucas’ heart stops.

And just like that, he feels like someone just threw a cold bucket at his face – there he is. Looking as beautiful as ever, with that dammed jacket and disheveled hair. Piercing grey eyes look at him – stare into his fucking soul, Lucas swears – from the door.

Eliott is standing right there with his lips forming a thin line – is he trying not to cry? There’s no way, his eyes are shining because he’s standing directly in front of the window. He isn’t sad, he’s pissed because they’re doing the job for him.

He’s mad. He’s not sad. He doesn’t care, Lucas reminds himself.

Eliott doesn’t care.

Still, he can’t stop the shuddering breath that leaves his lips when they lock eyes, because he’s a mess. Because he’s pretty certain he fell in love. But Eliott pulled back.

So he closes his eyes. Opens them again.

"Hi." He exhales. His eyes drop to the floor, glancing at his shoes, at the little lilac stain by his right foot, at anything but Eliott. "We were just leaving. Sorry."

He looks up for a second and nods at Eliott before turning away.                 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to break the second part into two different chapters because otherwise it would be too long.  
> We're almost getting to the good parts, yay! Angst is almost over, I promise.  
> Enjoy! ❤️

> “Is this why people say "maybe" when they mean "yes," but hope you'll think it's "no" when all they really mean is,  _Please, just ask me once more, and once more after that?_ ” - André Aciman, Call Me by Your Name.

 

“We were just leaving. Sorry.”

Lucas can sense Eliott’s gaze on him as he moves around the room to gather his things. His cheeks feel flaming hot; the warmth is making him feel dizzy, and he gets the urge to tug at the neckline of his t-shirt until he rips it off.

Dodging the concerning looks his friends are giving him, he bends to pick up his abandoned hoodie from the floor with itchy hands. The silence is deafening – Lucas is scared the loud thumping of his heart will break it and give everything away.

He’s a coward.

If only he could turn around, look at Eliott in the eyes and not have his heart stop beating just for it to start back again at full force. If only he wouldn’t feel fluttering butterflies make their way to his mouth - spilling from his lips like ink stains a paper - every time he mutters a word to him.

If only he would stop seeing his life, death and everything in between reflected in those eyes.

But that’s not the case, and Lucas would rather hang on to the memories of the morning sun and a warm bed than have those thoughts tainted by Eliott’s indifference.

He’s scared of what he might find if he looks now, because if it was all a joke to Eliott – if he looks and finds bored eyes looking at him - dull of light - well. Lucas doesn’t think he would survive that.

With his hoodie hanging from his right shoulder he turns to look at Yann, just to find the boy already looking back at him with something akin to sympathy in his eyes.

Yann raises an eyebrow curiously.

Eliott has moved from the door, much to Lucas’ relief, and is now standing by the window Yann had been resting on before the paint fight started. Funny how some moments feel like a distant memory minutes after happening.

Lucas nods curtly and starts walking in his direction. He can’t help but look at Eliott from the corner of his eye as he moves, though he can only see a blurry shadow surrounded by a golden haze.

He knows Eliott is still looking at him.

He still doesn’t dare look back. And as he’s walking past the door, he doesn’t look back either.

It’s Eliott’s hoarse voice that makes him stop dead in his tracks.

“Wait.”

Lucas clenches his fists. He winces when the dried blood on his knuckles cracks.

“Wait. I- Can we talk?”

Yann and Basile stop walking too, turning to look at him. Arthur looks past Lucas’ shoulders instead, looking at Eliott with his mouth half-closed. Lucas still doesn’t turn around.

“Um.”

“Please, Lucas.” Lucas would never admit it out loud, but he’s never loved his name as much as he does when he hears it coming from Eliott’s mouth. He feels a shiver up his spine. “ _Please_.”

Some might say he started turning around when Eliott muttered his name like a prayer – soft and caring, and Lucas hadn’t known how many meanings a name could hold before today -; others say it was the broken and hopeless _‘Please’_ , that got lost with the sounds of branches hitting against the building, what did the trick.

When Lucas looks back at this moment, though, he’ll say he knew from the moment Eliott appeared at the door that there was no universe where he would ever pull away from him.

Lucas looks at his friends, nodding with the confidence he doesn’t have. His hands are shaking.

He turns around.

“Okay.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, digging his fingers into his biceps as he urges his hands to stop shaking. He takes three big steps into the room until he’s a few feet away from Eliott. His eyes fly everywhere, taking in the room that surrounds them.

He gets flashes of Eliott’s face – his hair looks shiny and messy, and his lips are pink and inviting. His skin looks sun – kissed. The crook on his nose is still there. The moles he traced with his lips just two weeks ago are still placed in the same spots. 

Lucas has to fight the need to sigh with relief.

Still, he doesn’t look at him in the eyes. His stomach does a little flip when he thinks about it. He can’t do it.

Not yet, at least.

If Eliott doesn’t break the silence in the next few seconds, Lucas worries that he might choke on the tension. As if reading his mind, Eliott opens his mouth.

“So, um.” Eliott trails off. Lucas moves his gaze from Eliott’s neck (because he’s afraid he might do something stupid, like sink his teeth into it and melt in his arms the second they touch) to a white spot on the wall behind him. “How are you?”

“Good.”

He sees Eliott nod slowly from his peripheral view.

“That’s good. Um,” Lucas stops himself from snorting at how ridiculous this conversation sounds. “I mean- did you get my drawings?”

“I did.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” Lucas trails off. He suddenly feels very awkward standing there, looking at fucking nothing while listening to a half-arsed – what? Apology? Attempt at conversation starter? Lucas doesn’t even know anymore. “Listen, Eliott…”

He sees Eliott straighten up when he says his name.

“I think I’m just gonna go.”

Eliott’s shoulders slump forward.

“Listen, dude. It’s fine. Let’s stop this right here before it gets messy. Okay?” The lies escape from his lips naturally.

“No.” Eliott says fiercely, surprising Lucas. “No. Don’t… Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“ _Dude_ ,” Eliott spits with venom, his voice quiet but firm. Lucas looks at Eliott in shock. When Eliott sees him looking at him, he drops his gaze and mumbles “That’s not- You can’t call me that.”

“And why the hell not?” Lucas exclaims. “I don’t fucking get you. One day you’re all rainbows and shit, and the next you can’t even look at me in the fucking eye. What do you want from me?”

Eliott looks like a deer caught in the headlights. He flinches back, hitting his back against the window.

Lucas feels a tug at his heart, and tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. He’s going to fucking cry. His arms fall to the sides, hands shaking like mad, and he’s trembling all over – from anger? From pain? From seeing Eliott in pain?

“What do you want from me, Eliott, seriously? Do you want a good fuck? A warm body for when your girlfriend is away? A pretty face you can turn to when you feel like fucking a guy? What the fuck do you want, Eliott? Tell me.” Lucas growls. 

“Or was it a joke? A bet, maybe? See who outs the gay kid the fastest? Is that it?”

“No! Lucas!” Eliott gasps.

Lucas starts pacing around the room. He can hear some sniffles coming from behind his back. Is Eliott crying? Good. He’s crying too.

“Lucas, that’s- what the actual _fuck_?” Eliott is still speaking in a hushed voice. It drives Lucas mad. He needs the screams, the noise; he needs a reaction.

He contemplates walking away now – just walking out that door. It’s a simple task. He just has to keep going forward and not turn around. He is going to do it.

He is two moments away from brawling like a baby.

He has to.

“What am I supposed to believe, then?!” he asks instead, frustration and tears laced in his voice. “Because- because. You made me come out! You said you had broken up with your girlfriend! 

Just to, just to send me a fucking text the next day saying we were going too fast? That’s fucking rich. Dumped over text. Isn’t that the fucking definition of pathetic? 

And then what- two days after being in my bed you’re back to looking like you would hung the fucking stars for her?”

He stops to take a breath. Eliott stands still, mouth shut and eyes wide. When it’s clear that he isn’t going to say a thing, Lucas opens his mouth again. In between gulps of air, he manages to utter another string of sentences with a cracking voice:

“And you looked at me like that, Eliott… Fuck. You looked at me like I hung the moon that morning. You looked at me like I was something special, something worth loving. And then you were looking at someone else like that too, Eliott.” 

Lucas heaves a breath. A wild tear falls down his cheek, and as soon as he feels it rolling down his nose he moves his hand to wipe it away harshly. “You fucking looked at me like that. Fuck”

“I’m so sorry, Lucas.” Eliott whispers from his spot on the other side of the room. “I never meant to hurt you. I feel like this got out of hand.”

“Yeah, well.” Lucas sniffs. He suddenly feels defeated and tired. He’s hurting so much even his socks ache. He shouldn’t have stayed. “You did anyway.”

“I didn’t know.”

“What, that I’d seen you and your girlfriend?”

“No.” Eliott pushes himself off the window, surging forward. He takes a step closer to Lucas, and Lucas itches to move too – to go forward and fall into Eliott’s arms, or to walk backwards and out of the room. He hasn’t decided yet. “That it’d hurt this bad.”

“No one ever does.”

“I guess not.” Eliott takes a step closer. Lucas gulps. He just wants it to stop. He wants to understand. He wants the Eliott from that one Saturday back.

Lucas never gets what he wants, though. That’s just his life.

“I miss you, Lucas. I miss you so much.” Lucas raises his head, looks at the hollow of Eliott’s neck and bites his lip. 

“I’m so sorry. I miss you. I miss you. Please. It hurts so much I feel like I’m going crazy. Please, Lucas. Make it stop.” Eliott mumbles.

They’re so close Lucas can feel Eliott’s breath on his face. Eliott raises a hand, tentatively, and when Lucas doesn’t pull away he rests it on his cheek. Lucas exhales.

He closes his eyes in pure bliss. Their lips are an inch apart. They stay like that for a minute, just existing together.

“Why did you get back with Lucille?” Lucas breathes against Eliott’s mouth.

“Not now, please.” Eliott mumbles back.

Lucas immediately pulls away. Eliott opens his eyes slowly and his face falls.

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Of fucking course.” Lucas snorts ironically. “Of course. Everything is complicated with you.”

He picks up his hoodie, which had fallen off his shoulder when he was pacing around the room a couple of minutes ago, and slips it back on aggressively.

“Jesus fucking Christ. I can’t believe I almost fell for that again.” He mutters to himself, turning away from Eliott as he fixes his hair and checks his phone.

“No, Lucas, wait-”

“I’m so stupid, Jesus Christ.” Lucas swears, ignoring Eliott’s pleads to wait.

“Lucas- Lucas, wait.”

Lucas hears Eliott’s trailing off behind him, picking up the pace when Lucas does. He’s not going to turn around this time.

“I’m done, Eliott.” He says over his shoulder.

“Listen, please- I will explain everything. Please.” Eliott finally catches up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Lucas’ shoulder is on fire. “I promise I will explain. Just- _don’t_ _go_ , _please_.”

Lucas shrugs the hand off him and picks up his pace once again.

“Lucas, for God’s sake, stop for a _fucking_ second!” Eliott yells from his position in the middle of the corridor.

Lucas stops.

He turns around.

He finally looks at Eliott’s eyes. And, _oh_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third and last part of this fic! This wasn't meant to be so long, these guys write themselves on their own.  
> Please, enjoy!  
> Thanks for reading ❤

“Just stop.” Eliott quietly says. “Stay.”

Lucas doesn’t know what comes over him – maybe it was the way Eliott seemed to lose composter. Maybe it was Lucas’ misplaced hope, stringing him along once again the second Eliott shamelessly asked for him.

Either way, he turns around. And his heart falls to the floor. He’s not even sure whether he’s still breathing.

Eliott is pressed up against the lockers, looking like a caged animal; Lucas can see the way his lips are trembling ever so slightly, and he’s gripping the straps of his backpack so tight his knuckles are white.

Lucas forces himself to stare into his eyes. And,  _oh_.

Eliott’s eyes look like the Amazonas - so green like trees after a rainstorm; so grey like the clouds before the sky lights up to the sound of the thunder. They are wet too, a little red at the edges, and there’s no sun now, but they still sparkle brighter than the summer night sky.

“Just stay. I’ll explain everything.” Eliott is looking at him like one does at a wild animal - with caution and hesitation, afraid they’ll flee the second you make the wrong move. “And if you don’t want to do anything with me after I’m done, well. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Lucas had been so wrong.

Eliott’s eyes hold anything but indifference. His expression is the opposite of boredom.

Lucas had been so,  _so_  wrong.

He’d never been more wrong his life, because there’s Eliott, staring at him with a wild look on his face. There’s Eliott from Saturday, and Eliott from Wednesday, and every other Eliott he’s ever met before.

There’s Eliott, standing in the middle of the corridor with his face white and trembling lips. His eyes are rimmed with tears, yet his chin is jutted out in determination.

Lucas feels like he’s seeing him for the first time. He thinks he’s finally starting to understand.

Eliott is  _scared_. He looks so scared – yet there he is, the courageous fuck. Head held high even though his hands are still shaking.

Eliott is scared, and Lucas wants to reach out to him and tell him that _it’s okay, I’m scared too. We can be scared together._

Lucas loves him so much.

“Okay.” Lucas nods.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He repeats himself. He starts walking back to the common room without saying another word, confident that Eliott will follow him. He does.

“So you’re not leaving?” Eliott whispers.

“Do you want me to?”

Eliott snorts pathetically.

“I never want you to leave.”

Lucas tucks his head into his shoulder to suppress the smile that’s threating to get out. He glances at Eliott - who’s fallen into step next to him - before carefully extending his arm and softly brushing his fingers against the other boy’s wrist.

“Okay.”

Eliott laughs quietly. This time, Lucas doesn’t try to hide his little grin.

They keep walking in silence, glancing at each other every other second and smiling to themselves. His heart is beating hard against his ribcage, but, strangely enough, Lucas finds comfort in it. The silence feels like a promise this time around.

“For the record,” Lucas mentions as they enter the common room. “I never want to leave you, either.”

Eliott only swallows.

He moves to the couch and rips off the plastic sheet before sitting down. Eliott follows suit.

They’re sitting so close Lucas is finding it hard to keep his hands to himself. Suddenly, Eliott adjusts himself against the armrest and their knees brush, and Lucas is three seconds away from jumping him – conversation be dammed.

He never learns, does he?

He doesn’t get the chance to act on his impulses, because Eliott interrupts his train of thought before he can do anything about them.

 “This is going to sound super weird but, can you like-” Eliott stops himself. “Can you, um, turn around, maybe?”

Lucas shoots him a confused look. Eliott just looks away, embarrassed.

“I feel like it’ll be- like maybe I’ll find it easier.” He whispers, eyes still locked on the floor.

“Alright, then.”

With little movement, he swiftly lifts his legs up on the coach. After a second, the coach shifts and he feels Eliott’s warm back pressed against his from his tailbone to his neck; their height difference makes it perfect for Lucas to rest his head against Eliott’s shoulder blades. 

He fixes his eyes on the wall in front of him.

“Right.” Eliott takes a deep breath. “I’m warning you, it’s going to get ugly.”

“I think I can handle it.”

He feels Eliott nodding.

“I guess I’m just…I’m sorry,” Eliott exhales. “I’m sorry for not turning up to paint the mural that one Wednesday, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts. I’m sorry I left on Saturday without saying goodbye. I’m sorry for sending that text without warning. And for getting back with my girlfriend and hurting you in the process.”

Lucas tenses up at the mention of Lucille. As if noticing it, Eliott sighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so much. Both mentally and physically.”

“Me punching that door is on me, though.” Lucas interrupts softly.

Eliott gives a shallow laugh.

“My therapist says I should learn to differentiate between the problems I cause and the problems that just involve me.” He shrugs. “I’m not very good at listening.”

Lucas has to physically bite his tongue to avoid blurting out  _therapist?_

He’s getting restless. He’s so confused right now, and Eliott’s solemn tone is doing nothing to soothe his worries.

“Anyway," He continues.

"I think that everything got out of control, and suddenly I was feeling all these _emotions_. I closed my eyes, and I saw myself standing directly on the edge of a cliff, looking down and not being able to see anything but blurred shadows. And it freaked me out so bad. The thing is…” Eliott cuts himself off.

A beat.

“The thing is…I think I fell in love, Lucas.”

Lucas wants to scream  _me too, Eliott. I fell in love too._  Instead, he just slides his hands behind his back and pushes his fingers against Eliott’s.

“I didn’t want it to go away. I wanted to keep feeling like that forever. So I did what I had to do to ensure it would stay that way.

Do you remember that Wednesday? The one where you ditched classes because I was waiting for you by the window?” He waits for Lucas’ answer.

“Hmm.”

“Well, that day-” His voice breaks. He clears his throat. “The reason why it didn’t work with Lucille is because she stopped being my girlfriend, and started acting like my nurse. I didn’t want that to happen to us, Lucas.”

Eliott’s voice turns from hesitant to firm, almost mad (at himself? At Lucas?), in the next sentence.

“I need you to know that the reason why I didn’t tell you anything wasn’t because I didn’t trust you enough. I didn’t tell you because I trust you too much. I’m not stupid-” He stops.

“Well, maybe I am. But I’m not naïve. I didn’t want my burdens to taint whatever we could have had.

And I was so sure I could make this work if I just- I don’t even know what I was thinking. If I just pretended everything was normal, that  _I_  was normal, I thought maybe we could work. I now realize how _stupid_ that sounds.”

Lucas feels a sinking feeling in his guts. He grips Eliott’s hands tighter.

“You made me see how  _fucking_  idiotic and hopeful I was being that Wednesday. I should had known by then that romantic relationships are not made for someone like me. That morning, you-” Eliott’s voice wavers before he hastily cuts himself off. He untangles one of his hands from Lucas’ to wipe his tears away.

“You said something. And in that moment, I realized how foolishly hopeful I had been. Lucas, the thing is-” He takes one last shuddering breathe. “I’m bipolar.”

Time seems to stand still.

The wind hits the windows. The sound of water dropping from the ceiling rumbles ever time it falls on one of the desks. Lucas isn’t sure any of them is breathing at the moment.

He is squeezing Eliott’s hand so tight he’s afraid he might have broken some fingers.

“And- that morning. That morning, when you said. About your mother- And I thought.” Eliott keeps talking over himself. “I thought that I’d make it easier for you. Spear you the heartbreak, because of- Because I thought it would hurt you less. I guess I was wrong, again. And when you said-”

Realization dawns on him.

“Stop.”

Lucas fucking knows what he said.

“I lied.”

He can’t believe-

When Lucas was little, he would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, confused and sweaty. His eyes would fly open in surprise at the stillness of his heart, and he used to panic at the thought of dying in his sleep so much that he got himself sick more than once.

During a couple of months, back when he was 7, he was terrified of closing his eyes.

He always felt like he was free falling into nothing – even though he was firmly laid on the bed. His heart would skip a beat before wildly starting off again, and Lucas was scared it would go on overdrive from how fast it was going.

This feels ten times worse.

“Can I look at you?” Lucas asks with a hoarse voice. “Please?”

“Okay.” Eliott’s voice sounds squeaky when he answers.

That’s all Lucas needs to jump off the sofa and drop to his knees on the floor directly in front of Eliott.

“Look at me too, please?”

Eliott slowly untucks his feet from under one of the cushions, turning his body over, and lets his legs fall on either side of Lucas’ knees. Lucas patiently waits for him to lift his head up.

When he doesn't, Lucas slowly reaches up to him, hands stopping mid-air as he studies Eliott's reaction. He gives Eliott the chance to duck away from his touch, relief making its way into his body when he doesn't.

With the gentleness you would use to hold a baby, Lucas' hands falls on Eliott's cheeks, fingers resting against his skin as he softly caresses the sides of his face.

He gives them both a second to enjoy the feeling of fingertips brushing against smooth skin, before tilting his head up.

Lucas braces himself.

Eliott's face is wet with tears and snot, his face flushed red, and he's looking at Lucas like he doesn't understand why he's still here. 

"I lied." Lucas says again, firmly. Eliott looks at him with confusion. "That morning. I lied." He insists.

"I do talk to my mom. Twice a week, at least. I love her more than I've ever loved anyone." He confesses.

"My mom, she's in a very dark place right now. Every morning I wake up I feel like I'm dying a little bit inside, because she's doing so badly and I can't do anything to make it better. After everything she's ever done for me, I can't pay her back.”

“I lied, that morning. I lied to you, and I lied to myself.” He admits. “The truth is, I'm scared of her reaction- I'm scared of what she will say when I tell her that I fell in love. With a boy. So it was easier to pretend like her opinion didn't matter; after all, she's not in the right state of mind, is she? She doesn't know what she's saying.

I tried to shield myself, hanging on to that thought, when the truth is that I'm terrified of the look on her face when I tell her I'm gay. I love her so much, and I'm afraid I'll just disappoint her further."

Eliott is still avoiding his eyes.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, Eliott." Lucas pronounces every word, framing Eliott’s face with his hands.

"The problems I have with my mom, they're on me, and on her. I have no one to blame but myself, or my mother- Hell, even my father is guilty here. And I deeply regret putting the blame on someone's mental illness.

A mental illness doesn't define who you are. I had no business in reducing all of our problems to her mental disorder, and I had no right to say that  _horrible, horrible_ thing that morning. I should have never brushed the topic off like I did, even if I did it in fear I would scare you off with all my family drama.”

He brushes the tears rolling down his cheeks with his thumbs, making Eliott nuzzle his face into his palm.

Eliott finally holds his gaze, albeit a little unsure. Lucas will take what he can get.

“I guess that, in a way, we both lied to hide our own demons. That doesn't take away the fact that I hurt you, or that you hurt me. But I'm willing to learn from this mistake. I  _want_  to learn from this, and move past it, and act like the disgustingly cute boyfriends I always imagined we would be.  _Eliott_."

Lucas didn't believe in Heaven until now.

Eliott is breathing through his mouth, lips parted. His eyes are wide and hopeful, shining so brightly it takes Lucas' breath away, and he has a small smile lighting up his face.

Eliott is an angel, and no one can convince Lucas otherwise.

"I want that, too." Eliott confesses in a small voice.

"We are going to be the most disgusting couple in all Paris, Eliott. In all France. We're going to go on cute dates, and you'll force me to stand still in awkward positions at the worst of times, because the lighting is perfect and you just  _have_  to take a picture.

And I'll steal all your hoodies off your wardrobe, and I'll press my cold feet against your shins at night to warm them up, no matter how much you complain about it. And we're going to be that couple that posts artsy pictures with tacky captions every fucking week. You're going to have bad days,"

Lucas takes a breath. He's smiling now, and so is Eliott. The latter threads his fingers through Lucas hair, and Lucas leans into it.

"But then again, so will I. We'll argue. But we'll make up. I'll take care of you, and so will you. You’ll hold my hand when it gets dark- because you  _know_  I'm scared of the dark. And I'll push you into the light when you feel like you don't deserve to see the sun. Relationships are a two-way road. We're going to be so  _good_ , Eliott."

"It's going to get hard." 

"I know."

Lucas leans in closer.

"I will frustrate you at times."

"So does Yann, and Mika. And Arthur. And Baz."

"I'll get maniac." Eliott reminds him. "And then I'll get depressed. And sometimes I won't have the will to get out of bed."

"That's okay, we'll just cuddle and play a movie in the background."

"I don't want to be a burden to you."

He leans even closer. He rests their foreheads together, his eyelashes fluttering against Eliott's.

"You would react the exact same way if I was sad. That's not being a burden." Lucas whispers back, afraid to break the bubble they're immersed in. "That's being a good boyfriend."

Eliott pulls at Lucas' hair, and slides his hands back down to caress his nape. 

"Okay,"

"Yes?"

"Yes."

And just like that, Lucas erases the gap between their mouths.

His lips mold against Eliott's like a puzzle. He keeps them pressed like that for a minute, just enjoying the softness of the older boy's mouth against his.

It's Eliott the one who parts his lips a bit, tongue licking his bottom lip in a teasing way. Lucas immediately opens his mouth in desperation, his own tongue making a home out of Eliott's warm and wet mouth.

Out of impulse, he clenches at Eliott's shoulders, and pulls.

Eliott pushes right back. 

Next thing he knows, they're on the floor, Eliott on top of him as his legs straddle his hips. They're kissing, sliding against each other's mouths with a new-found want; hands fly everywhere - Lucas sneaks his hands up Eliott's shirt, trying to cover every inch of skin he can reach.

Eliott moves his hands up and down Lucas' sides, frenetically, as if he can't decide where he wants to touch first.

" _Lucas_..."

"I know."

"I’ve missed you so fucking much," Eliott mutters against his mouth. He pulls back, making Lucas whine, and trails his lips down Lucas' cheek, lips brushing against his skin like feathers. "God, Lucas- You don't even know.”

"And those fucking lilac fingerprints on your cheek." He keeps muttering to himself as he licks a long stripe down Lucas' neck. Lucas moans. "You don't know how cute and hot you look today. Always. Especially today."

Lucas looks at the ceiling, grinning. He feels tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, and an outcast tear falls down the side of his face. This time, he doesn't wipe it away.

"I was so scared this meant nothing to you." Lucas admits. Eliott makes his way back to Lucas' mouth, peppering his face with wet, drawling kisses. "I thought you had no place in your mind for me."

Eliott pulls his head back a little, moving his head back and forth as his lips barely brush over Lucas' over and over again. Lucas grips Eliott's back hard, nails digging into his skin.

In this moment, Lucas knows nothing but Eliott,  _is_  nothing but Eliott.

“Lucas Lallemant.”

Lucas gasps at the sound of his name on Eliott’s lips.

"In case you ever foolishly forget," he whispers hotly against Lucas' neck. He leaves a kiss there.

"I am  _never_ " 

A kiss on his chin.

"Not."

Another one on his nose.

"Thinking."

On the corner of his mouth.

"Of  _you_."

He breathes against Lucas' mouth before crashing their mouths together once again.

Lucas pushes at his mouth with a feverish urgency, his blood turning into fire. He catches Eliott's bottom lip between his teeth and tugs at the same time he pushes his hips up. He feels the way Eliott's back arches at the sensation under his hands. 

"You're driving me wild." 

Eliott detaches his mouth from Lucas' neck, raising his head until they are eye to eye, and smirks with bright eyes.

"Troye Sivan, uh?" 

Lucas blushes. 

"Shut up." He grumbles. "It was fitting." 

Eliott laughs, and Lucas follows him. 

" _You_  are driving me wild." Eliott answers back as he tugs at the hem of Lucas' t-shirt. The smaller boy lets himself get undressed, shivering with anticipation. 

Wet kisses make their way to his collarbone, slow and seductively, and Lucas moans again. He looks down at Eliott, who is already looking back at him through his eyelashes with lidded eyes, dark with raw want. 

He groans, fisting at Eliott's hair. 

"Keep kissing me." He rasps out.

Eliott drops a kiss on Lucas' abdomen. 

"Lower."

Lucas feels more than sees Eliott dragging his tongue down his stomach, leaving a trail of saliva after him. It's the hottest thing he's ever experienced. 

"Lower." 

Another kiss to his navel. 

" _Lower_." 

Eliott raises his head, a clear question dancing in his eyes. Lucas just tightens his grip on his hair. 

"You make me so happy." Eliott mouths against his skin. Lucas feels the words etched on his waistline forever. 

After what feels like an eternity - but realistically was less than 15 seconds -, Eliott moves his head an inch lower. 

And Lucas throws his head back in pure ecstatic. 


	4. BONUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bonus, because I couldn't help myself.

> _BONUS_

 

Eliott’s hand is buried in his hair, pulling gently every few seconds. It makes Lucas snuggle against Eliott’s naked chest every time.

They must make such a pretty picture, Lucas thinks.

Tangled up on the floor, legs thrown over each other’s bodies – his left hand is tucked between Eliott’s chest and his own head, while his right hand draws nonsense on Eliott’s stomach. Eliott has his hands pressed against his back, running them over his spine absently.

Every time either of them moves, the crunching sound of plastic sheets wrinkling under them makes Lucas grin.

Lucas smiles to himself, eyeing the paint stain he’s sporting on his side, the stripe getting lost on his side as it drags all the way to his lower back. It resembles the shape of fingertips, and it looks so pretty against his pale body that he’s obsessed.

He’s going to have to ask Eliott to buy some paint-

Wait.

“Crap.”

“What’s wrong?” Eliott asks immediately.

“Are we _ever_ going to paint that fucking mural?”

Eliott widens his eyes.

“ _Shit_.”

They burst out laughing – it’s so loud that the sound echoes through the empty halls. Lucas can’t stop laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“Fuck,” He whispers in horror, trying to stiffle his giggles. “Daphne is going to skin me alive.” 

Eliott clears his throat, trying to calm himself down. He drops a light kiss on Lucas’ head before speaking.

“Not only did we not do the only thing she asked us to, we also had her sex on her beloved common room’s floor? Oh yeah, she’s _definitely_ gonna kill us.”

Lucas raises his head, pressing a sweet kiss to Eliott’s mouth.

“Worth it.”

Eliott’s grin is big and bright, and the crinkles by his eyes are so deep Lucas wants to move there –he’d fit for sure, with how short he is. Apparently Eliott likes reminding him.

He’s looking at Lucas so intensely now, and Lucas doesn’t understand how there ever was a time when he thought he would find indifference there.

Lucas matches his grin.

“ _So_ worth it.”

They don’t get up until the sun sets.


End file.
